Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic
by the-lost-slayer
Summary: 'When you're with him, be yourself. Totally, completely, sometimes even bizarrely yourself.' - Serena Kim, Glamour Magazine. Fourteen things she does that he loves. Haimy fluff!
1. Underwear

_I love how her underwear and bra always have to match. Like, always. Even when all we're going is going to the corner store._

_-Jarrod Holland, 34, Wilmington, N.C_

* * *

"Holt, I want my bra back now."

I slung the bra around my finger over my head, smirking down at her as she glared up at me. She reached up, trying to pry it out of my hands, but failing. She playfully slapped my stomach, jumping up to grab the bra.

"Use another one." I said, and she stopped her frantic jumping to grab the bra. I watched as she started at me, then turned on her heel and walked back into our room. I heard the drawers open, and I walked into see her changing her underwear.

"What are you doing? All we are doing is going out for a walk! Do they have to match?"

She threw her book at me, and I moved to avoid the flying projectile. She pulled back on her jeans, and I reached into her underwear drawer and grabbed the matching bra. She turned to stare at me.

"Hamilton." She warned, and I laughed. Suddenly, I was tackled to the floor, my little bookworm catching me off guard again. I smiled up at her, holding both bras tightly in my hands. She sat on my waist, pulling at the bras. I heard the stitching tear, as did she. She glared down at me, trying desperately to pry my hands off her bras. I smirked at her as she bit my hand, and I let go of her bras a little.

"Please, let go." She said, and I shook my head.

"For once, can the drapery not match the carpet?" I asked, and she tilted her head.

"What?"

"It's a saying. Does your bra have to match your underwear?" I asked again, and this time she got it.

"Yes, it does. Now. Give. Me. It. Back." She said, growling under her breath. I rolled my tongue, and she found a pressure point on my neck. I groaned, having learned that yelling out in pain only made her smile even more. She stuck her tongue out at me, finally pulling the bras out of my hands. She stood back up, putting the one bra away. She pulled off her shirt, slipping on the matching bra to her underwear. I sighed, standing up.

"Why?" I asked, and she turned to look at me.

"Why what?" She asked, turning to walk over to the closet to grab long shirt. She slipped it over her head, fixing it to sit straight on her body. I rolled my eyes, pulling her hand out the door.

"You look beautiful, now let's go." I said, as she started too protested. She smiled at me, allowing me to pull her out the door.

"Yes, and it all matches." She said. I looked down at her.

"Does it have too?" I asked.

"You like it mismatched?" She asked, her small hand encompassed in mine as we walked down the street to the store. I smirked, gently knocking my hip into hers. She pushed me back.

"I just like… it." I said, and she laughed.

"So you don't care if they are mismatched or not?"

"No. As long as you don't wear granny panties?"

"Granny panties?" She asked. I opened the door for her, and she smiled at me as we walked in.

"Yeah, the ones that go up to your boobs." I said, and she looked at me. I saw the disgust.

"Ew. No worries, I shall not wear those. Ever. However, I will keep my matching carpets and drapes." She said, and I smirked.

"It's all going to end up on the floor anyway."


	2. Swaetshirt

_I travel a lot for work. When I come home from a trip, I often find that my fiancée has been wearing whatever sweater or sweatshirt I had on before I left, no matter how oversize it is on her petite frame. It's her way of staying close to me when I'm away.-Kevin Feyen, 34, Danville, California._

* * *

It had been one week since I had seen her. Yeah, I was on a business trip and had called every night. But one week, with no sleep. I couldn't sleep when I was away from her. I missed her constant mumbling, and the fact that I had to rub her back to get her to fall asleep. I actually found myself running my hands up and down the hotel mattress my second night away.

I left on business trips regularly, once every two months. And each time I came home, it was the same story. Like always, she had done laundry, cleaned up, and slept on the couch. She never slept in our bed when I wasn't there. I'd come home to see her pillow and a blanket folded up on the couch; her book, alarm clock, and a lamp on the coffee table. It was a routine of mine when I came home to take all of that stuff back to our room.

Nevertheless, the one thing she did that made me smile was the fact that she wouldn't wash one of my sweatshirts and would wear it for a week. Every time she wore a different one, but it was always the one I had been wearing the day I left. It made me smile to see her in an oversized sweatshirt, curled up on the couch reading her book, or watching a movie. One time I came home to find her watching James Bond. She quickly had shut off the TV, but I teased her for a week about it. She endured the teasing, smiling at me as I pointed my finger in her face.

I unlocked the front door of my own apartment, and smiled as I saw a blanket, pillow, and an alarm clock in the living room. I put my suitcase down, undoing my jacket and hanging it up. I couldn't hear any sound of her in the apartment, only the ticks of the clocks and the water dripping in the bathroom. I walked into the kitchen, only to see it empty. All of the dishes were clean and put away, apples and bananas sitting on the table. I grabbed an apple, walking into the living room. I grabbed her pillow, tucking it under my arm as I walked.

I looked in the bathroom to see all the towels washed, the rugs freshly cleaned, and the shower scrubbed. She really did a lot of cleaning when I was gone. I smiled as I walked down to the small office, to see all the shelves freshly dusted, the books neat and organized, and the usually cluttered desk clean. I guess she had to clean to keep herself sane.

I walked out of the office, and stopped outside my bedroom door. I could now hear her, soft snores flitting out from under the door. I grinned to myself, opening up the door. I looked at the bed, only to not see her laying there. I looked around, and finally found her on the floor next to my side of the bed. She was curled up in a ball, one of my sweatshirts covering her small body. I put her pillow on the bed, and then gently picked her up. She mumbled, reaching out and grabbing my arm. I put her on the bed, and she opened her eyes.

"Hamilton." She breathed, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me down next to her. I chuckled, wrapping my arms around her waist. She curled into my chest, and I could feel her smile.

"I missed you sweet cheeks." I said, and she laughed.

"I missed you too, my little hairy butt." She smirked at me, and I kissed her.

"Are you comfortable in my sweatshirt?"

She nodded, pushing up the sleeves. I saw that there wasn't a stain on it, even though she had been wearing it all week. She scooted up, pressing her lips to mine again.

"It's the warmest thing I've ever worn." She mumbled against my lips. I rolled my tongue, pulling at the hem. She wiggled around, letting me pull it up some. But then she stopped me, pushing it back down.

"I'm cold." She whispered, and I smirked.

"I can change that." I said, and she kissed me again.

"We'll see about that."


	3. Bathroom sink

**All right, folks listen to this: Some will be ending in a sexual inneuendo. So remember that okay? Great!**

_

* * *

__She sits in the bathroom sink to get closer to the mirror._

_-Thomas Dodson, 34, Lexington S.C_

* * *

It was a normal day. I got up at five, went for my run and came home(I got into sports after I started dating Hamilton) . The run was usual, stopping in the park for a second to catch my breath and look at the sun rising through the trees. On my way back, I stopped and bought a coffee, securing it in my hand before running again. When I got back to my apartment, I could hear the television in the living room. I kicked off my shoes, bouncing my legs as I walked. When I walked into the living room, he looked up and smiled at me.

"Morning." He said, turning back to the TV. I walked over and sat on the side of the couch next to him, handing him the coffee I got him. He smiled at me again, sipping on it. I watched as Saturday morning kid's cartoon shows played on the television, and shook my head.

"Aren't you a little old for cartoons?" I asked, and he shrugged.

"They teach us so much, and all on a Saturday." He said in a childish voice, and I laughed. I got up from the couch, moving into the bathroom. I stripped down, and stepped into the shower. I pulled my hair out of its rubber band, washing it thoroughly. When I got out of the shower, I wrapped myself up in a towel and walked into my room. I quickly changed into comfortable clothes, and walked back into the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror, and cursed.

"_What_ is _that_?" I mumbled, leaning over the counter to get closer to the mirror. When that did not work, I moved, trying to get closer. I cursed, as I couldn't get close enough. I moved up onto the counter, and found myself sliding into the sink as I looked closely at the ugly thing on my forehead. I cursed, reaching over for some lotion.

"What are you doing Amy?" Hamilton asked, walking in. I could see him smiling at me in the mirror, and I covered up my forehead.

"Looking at my face." I spat, putting some lotion on my face. Hamilton moved to sit on the counter next to me, and I looked at him out from under my hand. He smiled gently at me, reaching over.

"What are you covering up?" He asked, trying to move my hand. I glared at him, moving my bangs so they covered up the ugly thing on my face. I turned in the sink, and Hamilton started laughing. My hand immediately went up to my head, and Hamilton shook his head at me. He grabbed my arm, moving it down.

"You are beautiful even with a pimple on your face Amy. Don't worry about it. I was laughing at you in the sink." He said seriously, but softly. I smiled at him, and he kissed my cheek. He then smirked at me.

"I think I've seen this in a movie." He said. I shook my head. I moved out of the sink.

"No, more like one of your sexual fantasies, yes?" I said, and he wrapped his arm around my waist.

"You know me well, Miss Cahill."


	4. Thunder

Whenever there's a thunderstorm, she leads me into the bedroom and asks me to lie down with her and just listen.

- Kenji Jasper, 34, Atlanta

* * *

It was something she had learned to love. At first, she was afraid of thunder. She would curl up next to me, her body slightly shaking. The first time we were together during a thunderstorm, we were having one of our movie nights. When the first clap of thunder sounded, she stiffened slightly. As soon as the second one went off, she was shaking. I looked over at her, seeing her distress, and reached out to her. First, she flinched. But then she moved over next to me, shaking against my side.

"Amy?" I whispered, and I heard her whimper. I tentatively put my arms around her, and she started to relax. I rubbed her back, and after a while, she fell asleep. The next day at work, she thanked me for being there for her. It threw me for a minute, but I told her it was no big deal.

"That's what friends are for." I said, and she smiled.

After that, whenever there was a thunderstorm, I drove over to her apartment and kept her company. It took a while, but it became a tradition for us. Like our movie nights, it was something I looked forward too. I didn't look forward to her being scared, but more of the fact that I could help her out and protect her from something. I was content in the fact that I could comfort the woman with walls as high as the sky.

Soon, she became more at ease during the storms. She would still sit right next to me, her eyes wincing at the sound, but her body was relaxed against me. A year after the first thunderstorm we spent together, I drove over to her apartment. I used the spare key she made me to get in, and found her sitting on the counter in the kitchen. She smiled when she saw me, putting her cup down.

"Hello Ham." She said, and I smiled at how at ease she sounded. Another roll of thunder rang through the air, but she didn't flinch.

"Amy." I said, walking over to her. I got up on the counter next to her, and she handed me a beer. I took a drink.

"You know, I'm starting to like thunderstorms." She said, and I looked at her. She was smiling, and I smiled.

"That's good. I wouldn't want you to be in fear each time a thunderstorm happened." I said, and she patted my cheek.

"I think I'll never be afraid again." She said, making me smile. Another roll of thunder, and lightening lit up the sky. Amy slipped off the counter, grabbing my hand. I followed her down the hall and into her room.

"Lay with me and listen?" She asked, and I smiled.

* * *

It became a tradition, like our movie night. But now, instead of her curling up next to me afraid, she would lie next to me and listen. Sometimes I would go to her apartment, and sometimes she would drive over to mine. We would eat some pizza, and eventually we would end up lying in bed next to each other. Sometimes, she would lie on her stomach, her face resting on a pillow. Her eyes would stay shut, and after a while, her breath would even out and she would fall asleep. When she fell asleep in my bed, I would gently pull off her socks and undo her belt. Sometimes if she was wearing really tight pants, I would take those off too.

I smiled at the fact that she didn't seem to care. She trusted me enough to not do anything.

Other times, she would curl up next to me, and we would stay awake until the early hours of the morning talking. When it was time to get ready for work, she would take a shower and change into clean clothes that she had in the bottom drawer of my dresser. I had a couple changes of clothes at her apartment as well.

Tonight was like every other night that we spent together during a thunderstorm. She was curled up at my side, her hand lying on my chest. All of the lights were off in the apartment, and the occasional lightning bolt was the only light we had. I was rubbing her back gently, my shirt one of two things she was wearing. She looked up at me, her eyes sleepy. She smiled, moving her head to my neck. I readjusted my arm around her waist, and used my other hand to rub her back. She snuggled into me, and I smiled.

It was my favourite tradition, even more than our movie nights.

And it didn't matter what was going on, we always kept our traditions.


	5. Dance

_She does an I-have-been-fed dance after I cook a good meal._

_-Kurt Harfmann, 28, Boynton Beach, Florida_

* * *

It started out as an accident, her dancing after I cooked a good meal. She was wearing her headphones, and was listening to a song she liked. She stood up, and danced as she walked to put the plate in the sink. I took it the wrong way, but she thought it was funny. So, she started to do it after every meal I cooked. Sometimes, she would do it inconspicuously. A little hip shake as she walked to the sink. Other times, she would use her hands and dance around smiling at me.

She liked to cook for me too, but I loved her dance. I loved to see that she was happy, and having a good time. It brought a smile to my face to see that no matter what was happening, she would get up and dance her way to the sink.

I watched as she finished her rice, washing it all down with a glass of water. She leaned back in her chair, smiling as she rubbed her stomach. I watched as she ran her fingers over the stretched out skin, knowing that after 7 months the stretching skin must itch like crazy. She sat back up, grabbing her plate and standing up slowly. In the past seven months, her dances had gotten less and less theatrical. Her growing stomach got in the way. Nevertheless, each night she would still do a little jig as she walked to the sink.

And this night was like every other.

She put on hand on her stomach, and held her plate in the other. She walked as if she was walking to some unheard beat, and locked her hips in place as she put her foot down. I laughed as she swayed her hips and placed the plate in the sink gracefully. She turned to me, and smiled.

"I love that dance." I said, and she smiled. She walked… waddled over to me and kissed my cheek.

"So I've noticed."


	6. Cuddling

_Sometimes when we're hanging out along at home, my normally serious fiancée will run at top speed across a room and jump into my arms. No explanation, just a full-on leap and straddle. I love it._

_-Dave Hepburn, 32, Nassau, Bahamas._

_

* * *

_

I walked across the living room, picking up random objects as I went and putting them back in their appropriate spots. I heard Amy in the kitchen, washing dishes. I looked in as I walked by and saw her standing in front of the sink, her hair pulled up in a ponytail. I smiled at the sight, and kept walking up the stairs to the second floor. I threw my jeans into the bedroom, and grabbed the hamper at the end of the hall.

"Amy, do you have any other dirty clothes you want washed?" I yelled through the house.

"You know what I've worn in the last week. Figure it out." She yelled back, and I smiled. I walked back into the bedroom, grabbing what I knew that she had worn the last week. I picked up her red bra and threw it in the basket, picking up the basket and walking back down the stairs to the washroom. I put the clothes in the washing machine, starting the load. I put all of the clean clothes into the basket, and carried them back up the stairs. I heard the water turn off in the kitchen, and then Amy's light footsteps in the living room. I put the basket in our room, and then walked back down stairs. She was straightening the blankets on the couch, moving her reading book onto the coffee table.

"It's clean in here. You don't have to straighten things yet again." I said, and she glared at me.

"You messed everything up." She said as she walked past me, lightly punching my shoulder. I smiled at her, watching her wash off the candleholder. She walked back into the living room, putting it down on the coffee table. She centered it, and I rolled my eyes.

"I'm hungry." I said, and she scoffed.

"As usual." She said, sitting back on the couch. I glanced at her quizzically before walking into the kitchen.

"Make me a cup of tea please?" She said, and I smirked.

"Sure thing."

I made her tea and a sandwich for myself. As I walked back out into the living room, she looked up at me. She smiled at me as I handed her the tea, and I sat down next to her. Placing my sandwich on the table, I sat back next to her. She moved over next to me, pulling her legs up against her chest.

"I'm cold." She said, and I looked down at her.

"Want me to get you a blanket?" I asked, and she nodded. I got back up, walking to the hallway closet. I grabbed Amy's favorite blanket and walked back into the living room.

Suddenly, Amy launched herself out off the couch and across the room. I dropped the blanket in time to catch her as she wrapped her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck. I stumbled back, but caught myself against the doorframe.

"It's nice to see you too." I said, and she buried her face in my neck.

"I love you." She whispered, and I smiled. I slowly moved over to the couch, sitting down with her in my lap. I rubbed her back gently, moving my nose into her hair. She smelled amazing, as she always did.

"I love you too." I whispered into her ear, and I could feel her smiling into my neck. She moved out of my arms, and next to me. I was somewhat sad that she wasn't curled up in my lap and that I could bury my nose in her hair. Instead, I settled with tracing small circles on her thigh. Eventually, she would launch herself at me again, and I would get a chance to hold her close and cuddle with her. I smiled at her profile, reaching over to trace her jaw line. She smiled at me, reaching over to pat my stomach.

"Sorry." She said, and I gaped.

"For what?"

"Doing… that." She said, and I shook my head. I kissed her cheek, resting my forehead on the side of her head.

"I don't mind Amester. It's my favorite thing." I whispered in her ear, and I could feel her blushing.

"You're ridiculous Holt. Now, could you go pick up the blanket off the floor?" She asked, and I looked at her face. She was smirking mischievously.

"Will you just randomly jump into my arms any time soon?" I asked, and she rolled her eyes.

"Just get the blanket." She said, and I chuckled as I got up.

"Eventually, you'll do it again." I said.

"And you shall be surprised."


	7. Vulnerable

__

_As soon as I get into bed, she will pretzel her legs around my one leg and lay her head on my chest… in five minutes or less, she's fast asleep. I feel like such a man!_

_-Shelby M. Hill, 36, Orlando Fl._

_

* * *

_

It started out innocently enough; after a hard day, we got some pizza and beers and sat on my couch watching a James Bond movie. Eventually, we ended up lying next to each other, my back up against the back of the couch, and her back against my chest. After a while, she got uncomfortable on the edge of the sofa, and I moved so she could lie against the back of the sofa and next to me. She wrapped her legs around mine, and placed her head on my chest. Soon, she was fast asleep. I didn't want to wake her, so I stayed on the couch. I used one of the pillows to prop my head up, and fell asleep. When I woke up, she still had her legs around mine, and her head was still on my chest. I looked at my clock and saw it was way past the time she got up to go for her run, but she looked so tired that I didn't wake her. I stayed there for another hour before she woke. When she did, she rolled off me and onto the floor. She rubbed her eyes, and then looked up at me.

"What time is it?" She asked.

__

"

After seven." I said quietly, finally moving. I sat up straight, stretching out my neck. She got up in a flash, and I didn't see her until I got to work. I was late, but I was well rested. She seemed a little odd that day, but I didn't ask her. Not until our next movie night, and after two beers.

"Hey, Amy?" I asked, and she looked up at me. She was sitting on the opposite end of the couch, her feet just touching my thigh.

"Yes Hamilton?" She asked, grabbing another slice of pizza.

"Why did you freak out that one morning?" I asked, and I knew that I didn't need to explain for her to know what I was talking about. She stiffened, and kept her eyes on the TV. I waited though, knowing that she was thinking by the way she pursed her lips and furrowed her brow. I watched her, and eventually she spoke.

"I was…. embarrassed." She said, thinking over her last word. I quirked an eyebrow.

"For falling asleep?" I asked, and she scrunched her nose. She seemed to be thinking it over.

"Yes." She said slowly, and I laughed.

"Amy, you can't be embarrassed over something a human being does almost every night. Unless they have insomnia, but it's natural. You can't get embarrassed over something like that." I said, realizing I sounded angry.

"I know it's natural Hamilton. However, how I fell asleep was why I was embarrassed." She said, starting to sound angry also. I calmed myself before speaking again.

"Because it was different position to be in? Because it might be vulnerable?" I asked quietly, and she nodded. I sighed, and reached over to touch her leg.

"Being human means you get to be vulnerable." I said, and she shook her head.

"You can't be vulnerable like that. You could end up getting killed." She said, and I sighed heavily.

"Amy, for once, could you just be vulnerable? Just once? It's me, and I don't care if you're vulnerable or not."

Amy looked away from me, her red hair falling over her back. I waited for her to turn back around, but she didn't. She stayed that way. I sighed, moving my hand away from her. When the movie was over, I looked at her again. She was still sitting looking away from me, and I sighed.

"Amy, are you alright?" I asked, and she nodded. I heard her sniff, and I moved to sit in front of her on the ground. I saw the small tear trails, and pulled her into a hug. She was stiff at first, but eventually she relaxed into my arms.

"It's okay Amy. I didn't mean to make you cry." I whispered to her, and she shook her head.

"You didn't." She said, and I looked at her.

"Then why are you crying?" I asked.

"Because." She said, and I sighed.

I got it. She was being vulnerable. I pulled her tighter into my arms, protecting her from the world in her one time of weakness.

It took a while, it really did. It took a while for her to begin to trust me with stuff, and then after that it took a while for her to let her guard down. I didn't know when, but our little movie nights turned into something else and we ended up asleep in one of our beds. She always seemed to pretzel her legs around mine, and her head would lie on my chest. It became more of a nightly thing, but we always skipped the movies, unless it was Tuesday. It was slow, but eventually I realized that we had started a relationship closer than our previous one.

If that was even possible…

Nevertheless, it was enlightening to see this other side of her. At work, she was still the dutiful Madrigal officer, whose walls were so high they touched the sky. But when she walked through that door, and entered either my house or hers, she was a different Amy. She was still stubborn and threatening to kill me, but she was different. It was hard to explain.

All I knew was she would tell me when something was bothering her. She would walk around in sweatpants, a t-shirt and no bra, no makeup, and her hair a mess and not even care what I thought. At night, when we fell asleep, her legs would be wrapped around mine, and her head would always be lying on my chest.

And even now, after ten years of marriage; when I crawl into bed, her legs go around mine and her head finds my chest. She falls asleep in seconds, and stays that way until I have to get up.

She still thinks its vulnerability.

I think it is the best way to fall asleep.


	8. Sounds

_She has a collection of adorable sound effects. My favorite is this special squeak for when she's cold._

_-Stephen Eklund, 26, Alexandria, Va._I heard it twice, but I immediately loved it. It was one of those things I wanted to hear, but knew it would be a special circumstances in which I would. I equated it to her being a screamer; something that I would be lucky to find true.

* * *

Nonetheless, I got to hear it twice. Only twice. I didn't think of it as a thing she always did at first, until the third time. I wasn't expecting it, and when I did hear it, I literally stopped.

We were at a crime scene, and it was late in the winter. There was snow falling, and the breeze was causing a cold wind chill. Her jacket had mysteriously disappeared, and she ended up wearing only her purple sweater. She left her hair down, seeing as her neck was going to get cold. At first, Zane gave her a look. She shrugged it off, saying she would be fine. I didn't believe her, but didn't say anything. When we got to the field where the body had been found, she wrapped her arms around her body. I saw her shiver as the wind hit her, and I saw the goose bumps on her neck.

"Cold, Amester?" I asked her, and she glared at me.

"Not one bit." She said, and I rolled my eyes. We went back to work, and I turned around when I heard it.

A quiet squeak coming from her direction.

I turned around, looking directly at her. She was kneeling down on the ground, picking up a piece of paper. I watched her closely, and when she saw me starring she gave me a look.

"What Holt?" She asked, and I shook my head.

"Nothing." I said, looking away. She didn't ask me again until we were in the truck.

"What was that look?" She asked, sitting right next to me. Peter looked at me from the other side of Amy.

"What look?" I asked, and she pointed at me.

"That look you gave me earlier." She said, and Peter rolled his eyes. He sat back in his seat and I looked at Amy.

"I don't remember giving you a look." I said, and Peter chuckled.

"You guys give each other so many, that's not surprising."

I glared at Peter, and Amy slapped my arm.

"At least he is being honest." She said, sitting back in her seat. I sighed.

"I am being honest though." I said, and Amy laughed.

"Ha, no you aren't. You gave me a look."

"If you know I gave you a look, why are you asking?" I shot back. She stared at me.

"Because, I want to know what that meant." She said. Peter opened his mouth, but I silenced him with a look.

"I've never heard you squeak before." I said, and she furrowed her brow.

"What?" She asked. I grimaced, watching where I was driving.

"I've never heard you squeak before." I said again, and she rolled her eyes.

"I've squeaked before." She said, and I shook my head.

"I've never heard it." I lied, and she rolled her eyes.

"Yes, you have." She said. My cell phone went off, and I answered it.

"Holt, new crime scene." Zane said, and I groaned. I took the address, and we drove to the new crime scene. When we got out, I saw the goose bumps again on Amy's neck. I sighed, taking off my jacket and handing it to her. She looked at me, then the jacket.

"I don't need it." She said, and I shook my head.

"You're cold." I said, and she put her hand on her hip.

"No, I'm not." She said, and I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, you are." I said, and she raised her eyebrows at me.

"How do you know?" She took a step towards me, her voice low. I stopped, knowing I was caught. She smirked at me, taking the jacket from my hand and slipping it over her shoulders. It was huge on her, but she looked good in it anyway. She smirked at me as she walked away, and Peter walked up next to me.

"She caught you." He said, and I looked at him. I looked back at Amy, watching as she bent down and picked up a bloody shirt. I couldn't see anything because my jacket covered it.

"You think Petey?" I snapped at him before moving away. I heard him stutter, then move to get back to work.

Let's just say, I happened to hear that squeak more and more. I didn't know if I was dreaming it, or if she was actually squeaking. That, and a little click she made with her tongue when she was biting back laughter. There was also a gagging noise she made when something stunk, or a sucking noise when something tension filled was happening.

But, out of all of them, my favorite by far was her squeak.

Because I knew; she squeaked, and I had a reason to see her wrapped up in _my_ jacket.


	9. Pajama's

_My wife tucks her PJs under her pillow in the morning. Whenever I strip the sheets from the bed to do laundry, I find at least 10 T-shirts and five pairs of pyjama bottoms wedged between the bed and the wall. I could get annoyed – especially since the T-shirts are usually mine – but it's such an endearing routine that I have to laugh._

_-Billy Mann, 26, Hoboken N.J._

_

* * *

_We had ground rules. Well, not rules. More like…. an understanding. We came up with it when we first started dating. We sat down and just started to talk about who did what, and I ended up with laundry. However, she got the dishes. I hated those. And since my dishwasher broke…

I did the laundry once a week and I washed our sheets once a month. Or sooner, but that depended on special circumstances. I first found the clothes about the third time I washed the sheets, three months after we moved in together. I was a little surprised, and was surprised to see at least seven of my shirts were sitting between the bed and the wall. Not only that, but they were some of my favorite shirts. I just smiled, picking them up and putting them in the hamper. When she came home, she saw the shirts and smiled slightly. I asked her why they were there, and she just shrugged.

"Your shirts are softer than any of mine," She said simply walking away.

And from that day on, it became an endearing routine for me. I enjoyed finding my shirts piled there in-between the wall and the bed. I would smile, and make sure they were washed. Soon, I began to find the same shirts each time, and I realized she had favorite shirts. I realized that they were also _my_ favorite shirts. It took me a while to realize that she liked me best in them too. I actually had to hear that from Reagan.

Nevertheless, I was glad that when we first fought over who did what, I had given up and chosen to do the laundry.

And year after year after year, it was my favorite thing to do. Because through four kids, numerous fights, and some nights when she wasn't asleep in our bed, I would reach over and my fingers would touch my shirts.

And I knew that we would be fine.

* * *

**Dear Readers,**

**I would like to humbly invite you to read my story, 'My Best Friend.'**

**Why you may ask?**

**Well, people I have poll up there for a couple of story idea's I have had. So far I have two votes. Yes people you heard, read actually, correct. Which I NEED YOU TO VOTE. NOW (all letters in in caps are me YELLING) **

**REVIEW**

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	10. Kisses

_I absolutely love that any time she wakes up in the middle of the night she gives me a kiss on the cheek, like she's super psyched to see my lying next to her._

_-Brian Dean, 25, Providence R.I_

_

* * *

I always slept through the night, so I had no clue. I didn't know. But, one night when I couldn't sleep, I was almost surprised when I felt a kiss planted on my cheek. Then she moved back into my arms, laid her head on my chest, and settled back in for sleep. I couldn't help but smile in my sleep haze, and pull her closer to me. I don't think she knew I was awake, because she chuckled slightly and said something in French._

When I would go to bed before her, I would fake I was asleep. I'd say good night, and crawl into bed. About an hour later, she'd walk in and get into her pyjamas. As soon as she curled up under the blankets, she'd kiss my cheek gently, move my arms so she could lie in my embrace, and fall asleep. If I did fall asleep before she got into bed, I'd wake up to her head on my chest and my arms around her shoulders. One time I woke up with her hair in my nose, and I had to stop myself from sneezing. I smiled to myself as she moved in her sleep, her hand pulling her hair away from my nose.

Like she just knew I was going to sneeze.

Nonetheless, I loved getting a small kiss on the cheek when she thought I was asleep. She rarely showed her affection like that in public, and I was lucky to hold her hand without a glare. But, I guess when I was asleep it was easier for her. To just be herself and to do what she wanted.

She walked out of the bathroom, and her feet padded across the floor. I looked at her discreetly, and I saw that her hair was braided at the bottom of her head. She let her towel drop, and she pulled on her pyjamas. I smirked to myself as she crawled into the bed without a shirt on. I could feel the bed next to me dip as she rolled up next to my side. Her hand settled on my chest, and she pulled at the hairs there. I winced just a little, and wrapped my arms around her shoulders. She settled into my arms, and bent her head up. She kissed my cheek softly before letting her head fall into the niche between my neck and shoulder.

"Good night Hamilton," She said quietly, and I tried not to freeze. I could feel her smiling into my neck, and I took a deep breath.

"Good night Amy," I whispered, and she patted my chest.

"You are an awful actor," She whispered, and I smiled.

"You bought it," I whispered back, opening my eyes to look at her small body nestled against my side.

"After the tenth time, I knew," She said, and I laughed. I gently pulled on her hair, kissing the top of her head.

"So, why do you only kiss me on the cheek at night?" I asked, running my fingers through her curls. She shrugged.

"You look peaceful," She whispered, "And really nice when you are asleep."

I grinned smugly down at her, and shut my eyes.

"Right," I said, and she smacked my chest.

"You did," She said.

"Then why are you blushing?" I asked, feeling the heat on my neck. She buried her face deeper into my neck, and mumbled something quietly into the skin. I moved so I could see her face, and saw she was blushing deeply.

"What did you say angel?" I asked, and she blushed some more. I reached up and touched her cheek, and smiled at the feeling of heat there.

"I said I like seeing you next to me," She whispered, and I smiled softly. I pulled her closer to me, kissing her gently. I looked into her eyes and felt myself smiling even wider.

"I love seeing you next to me too," I whispered, and she buried her face in my chest. I smiled, wrapping my arms around her and waiting until she fell asleep to let myself drift off.

The next morning, she walked out into the kitchen, following her nose to food. She walked up behind me where I sat, and leaned down. I thought she was going to whisper in my ear, until I felt her lips meet my cheek. I smiled at her as she walked over to the stove, and put two pancakes on her plate. She stopped next to me as she walked to the table, and bent down so she could whisper in my ear.

"I love you."


End file.
